


There's More Than One Way to Say "I Love You"

by moonqueenallura



Category: Gintama, Haikyuu!!, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Divergent, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, McCall Pack, Polyamory, Potential Spoilers, demigirl!Kyuubei, implied kurotsuki, series of tumblr fics and prompts, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonqueenallura/pseuds/moonqueenallura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fics requested by Tumblr anons/mutuals based on ask-meme prompts! I'm posting them on here as well, and I'll update this as I go along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Allydia - The first declaration of love

Allison didn’t know when it began. Maybe it started the day Lydia flicked her strawberry curls over her shoulder, pointed at her wickedly, and declared that she was her new best friend. Or maybe she knew it when she saw Lydia in the hospital room, bloodied and torn and vulnerable, the sight of her destroying Allison’s carefully constructed ideals of peace. 

She put a word to what she felt for Lydia the day that mysterious woman, bleary-eyed and hazy, came to them and left identical bruises on their arms. Lydia, indignant and pouty, her bright eyes sparkling with hidden knowledge that no one else could understand, turned to her and said, “We’ll figure this out, Ally. I promise.” She’d whispered it softly and reassuringly, in a tone only meant for Allison’s ears. And Allison’s heart flipped, her stomach turned over, and blood rushed to her cheeks. 

“I love you,” she blurted out before she could stop herself, eyes widening in shock. She turned away slightly, but her hands itched to take Lydia into her arms, to take the comfort her warmth offered her. She loved her because she knew Lydia would always stay by her side, because she knew that Lydia had always given her unconditional support even in the worst of her moments (and god did she regret not helping Lydia through her own pockets of darkness, back when no one in the pack told Lydia what was going on, back when Jackson was the villain and Lydia spent her days crying in bathrooms). (That was not so long ago). 

Lydia smiled gently and turned Allison’s face toward her, bumping her head against hers with a nuzzle and a quiet laugh. “I love you too, Ally. I always have. I always will,” she stated before laying her head on Allison’s chest and swaying them to a melody only the two of them could hear. 

Much later, when Allison would fall to the ground with finality and glory, she would smile with the remembrance that she loved Lydia and Lydia loved her too. She wouldn’t hear Lydia’s screams of agony or see Lydia lose the life in her eyes. All she would know is their first dance as lovers even in her last moments. 

And that was everything.


	2. Kyuutae - Everything I need

Kyuubei sighs and wipes sweat off her brow, relaxing her stance and lowering her sword. She’s had yet another sparring session with Toujou; to his surprise, he wins this time. He knows that she’s distracted by something, but for once he chooses to keep silent and leaves her to her own devices as she cools down. 

After he leaves, Kyuubei lets out a breath she hasn’t realized she’s been holding and leans against the wall. Much to her chagrin, she knows that her emotions are visible on her face. Later, she will be reprimanded by her father for “slacking off” during the session, and later, her grandfather will give her a knowing look and wise but simple advice as he tends to do. Right now, she mulls over a scene from the previous day that continues to weigh heavily on her mind. 

_She’d gone to visit Tae at the Shimura Dojo. It was sunny the entire day in Edo, and Kyuubei thought to relieve Tae of her obligations and take her shopping downtown. When she approached the gates of the Dojo, however, she saw Tae and Shinpachi speaking in grave tones. Tae chewed on her lip anxiously as she gestured to Shinpachi, while his expression grew progressively serious as she spoke._

_As Kyuubei got closer to hear their conversation, taking care to hide behind a tree (all the while pretending not to see Kondou hidden under the floorboards of the Dojo’s porch, or his deer-caught-in-headlights grimace), she could make out what Tae was telling her little brother._

_“Don’t be upset, Shin-chan. I’ll take more shifts at Snack Smile for the next few weeks. I’ll wear my best clothes, too, so that those filthy men I have to smile at and sit next to can at least make my time worth something.”_

_“I don’t want you to have to do this, though. Maybe I can ask Gin-san for some extra jobs.”_

_Tae laughed, but Kyuubei could tell that her laugh contained a note of desperation. “You know Gin-san. He’s barely able to pay his own rent or wages.”_

_Shinpachi shook his head angrily, tears beginning to fall slowly, hitting the ground softly, their impact cutting Kyuubei’s heart in two. She could see that even Kondou, who was stock-still and rigid, looked upset. Kyuubei could tell what Kondou was thinking: neither of them were worthy of anything if they couldn’t help Tae, if they couldn’t protect her even from her selflessly self-destructive ways._

_Tae took Shinpachi into her arms, rocking him slowly as he gently sobbed, and Kyuubei was reminded of their days at the Temple School, when both her eyes were whole and Tae’s eyes still sparkled with mirth, when she didn’t come home exhausted and embittered, when Kyuubei herself didn’t slice the air with her sword, hoping to prove something (to herself, most likely)._

_“It’ll be alright, Shin-chan. I promise.”_

Before Kyuubei can punch the wall with the force of her own self-deprecating, misplaced anger, she is brought back to reality by Toujou knocking on the door. She pauses in her actions, surprised that he’s come back. 

“What is it, Toujou?” 

Outside of the door Toujou grimaces at Kyuubei’s sharp tone. Something really is wrong for her to be openly snapping at him; Kyuubei, normally so reserved in front of the Yagyuu clan, tends not to betray her true feelings. It is only around Tae (and sometimes around the Yorozuya) that she smiles openly or lets out any storms raging within her. 

“Er, I hate to bother you again, Young Master, but Tae-san has come to visit you. Can I let her in?” he states, but upon hearing Tae’s name, she rushes to the door and opens it as quickly as she pulls Tae inside her room and shuts the door once again, stunning Toujou into silence. He shakes his head and walks away. It’s endearing to see that Kyuubei can never control herself around Tae; while her father sees this as weakness, Toujou knows that it is a sign of remarkable strength. 

“Hi Kyuu-chan! I’m sorry to show up her announced but I just–” Tae begins before Kyuubei stops her and takes her into her arms. She can feel Tae shaking as she strokes her back soothingly, whispering words of love into Tae’s hair. They collapse onto the ground, Kyuubei cradling Tae even closer as Tae cries into Kyuubei’s chest. 

“I’d do anything for you, Tae-chan. Say the word and I’ll kill a thousand men if need be,” Kyuubei whispers into Tae’s ear. They are far past the point of blushing when Kyuubei declares things like this, or when Tae casually holds Kyuubei’s hand in public and shoots down Gintoki’s hollers and Shinpachi’s embarrassed cries of “you two are in public!”, but Tae still flushes pink. Kyuubei is reminded of the roses her grandfather tends to in their yard, red and blossoming, beautiful and thorny, fragile and lonely in the winter and strong and sturdy in the summer. 

Tae shakes her head, sniffs, and looks up. She is a bit humiliated that at her age she’s falling and sobbing in her beloved’s arms again as if she’s back at The Temple School. She looks at Kyuubei for a minute, simultaneously astounded and not at all surprised by the overwhelming expression of worry on Kyuubei’s face. Love is always flowing between them. It is an undercurrent of electric tension at night; it is a soothing melody at dawn; it is a pleasing, playful butterfly during the day; it is a harsh, roiling hurricane now, when Tae is pressed by the world and Kyuubei aches to kill for her. Love is ever-present when the two interact, and while perhaps it is not always expressed explicitly, Tae knows Kyuubei loves her. It overflows sometimes, like water spilling from a jug or a glass hitting the ground and shattering into a million pieces. 

Tae sighs contentedly and lays her head against Kyuubei’s chest again, calming slightly, her sobs reducing to hiccups. Kyuubei brushes her fingers against Tae’s face, wiping off the tears. “No, Kyuu-chan, don’t worry. Why would I ask for anything more? I have everything - I have you here with me,” Tae states boldly, not looking Kyuubei in the eye as she says so. Kyuubei’s fingers still, a blush blossoming on her face this time, before she lays them both on the ground again. 

“I’ll stay with you for however long you’ll have me,” Kyuubei says as they hold onto each other. Tomorrow, they will face the rabid beasts of hunger, greed, and violence together, their hearts in their hands as sharpened weapons. 

(Later, Toujou will come into the room and find them intertwined like curls of steam arising from a glass of tea; it is dawn and he will put a blanket over them and leave, making sure to tell Kyuubei’s father not to bother her). 


	3. Bokuaka - Mishaps and First Date Shenanigans

Akaashi pinches his nose in increasing irritation. He didn’t expect to be this annoyed on what is supposed to be an otherwise happy, perhaps romantic day. It is, after all, his and Bokuto’s first month anniversary. Of course, Akaashi is not one to celebrate such small details, but it’s important to Bokuto. What makes Bokuto happy makes Akaashi happy, which also makes him cringe at himself for being so stereotypical and cheesy but he is always reduced to a mess when Bokuto is around him. 

Bokuto had insisted yesterday that “I’ll take care of everything, Akaashi! You just take that pretty little head of yours out for a day,” with a twinkle in his eye (suspicious) and a confident nod. Akaashi had relented, knowing that if he didn’t, Bokuto’s mood would go from loud and obnoxious to melancholic and uncooperative in the span of three seconds. (If anyone asks, he actually has counted the span of time it takes for Bokuto’s face to go from an electrifying grin to a depressed scowl - exactly three seconds, not that the rest of Fukurodani is counting). 

The thing, is though, that Bokuto hasn’t texted him to come home yet. Right now he’s in a coffee shop in downtown Tokyo, working on some practice sets and cursing Bokuto in his head. While he finds Bokuto’s need for attention amusing (and adorable, although he’ll never admit that out loud especially to the perpetrator himself), and finds himself accomodating Bokuto’s moods, childish needs, and grandiose ideas with relative glee, he is also constantly reminded that being Bokuto’s setter, caretaker, vice-captain, and now boyfriend-of-a-month is exhausting. 

What makes this worse is that Bokuto and Akaashi haven’t gone on an actual date yet. The timing of their anniversary is all the more convenient, then. Although the two have been aware of the tension that arose every time they locked eyes or celebrated a heady victory with triumphant ecstasy, and while they knew that the rest of the world (much to Kuroo’s smugness) could see that they had feelings for each other, they’d never acted upon it because of Akaashi’s reservation and outward indifference (and because Bokuto would often stumble over himself). Bokuto is fantastic at spiking volleyballs, celebrating himself, and setting Akaashi’s skin on fire. He is terrible at classical Japanese literature, reading the mood in a situation, and expressing his feelings without yelling them confidently across the room. Thus, Akaashi does not usually give him room to scream his feelings out loud. He knows that their teammates are supportive - disgustingly so, in fact, when he sees Komi and Konoha giving them kissy faces across the court. Akaashi gives them killer expressions when they do that, but they do not relent because Bokuto loves it when people tease them. He puffs out his chest in pride and points at Akaashi, declaring that not only is he the best ace in Japan; he has the best boyfriend in Japan as well. (Bokuto does not go unpunished for that later on, when he tries to crawl into Akaashi’s bed and curl up behind him.)

A month ago, though, they’d had a fantastic practice, Bokuto perfecting a cross-spike technique he’d been working on for months. Akaashi felt exhilarated to see how happy Bokuto was, how happy his ace, his captain felt, knowing that his toss was part of the reason why Bokuto could turn around, hands on hips and loud voice booming, and declare that their team was “number 1!”. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or perhaps it was the months of unspoken intimacy, stolen glances across the room, dreamlike touches passing in infinitesimal moments that Akaashi later ruminated over in the privacy of his room as he struggled to understand why it was Bokuto of all people that inflamed his heart; but whatever the reason, Bokuto chose that moment to focus his attention on Akaashi and Akaashi only. Like when they won actual games, Bokuto would gaze deeply and endlessly at his team (but it would seem to Akaashi that they were the only two in the room), only this time Bokuto wasn’t glancing at Komi or Konoha or Onaga or anyone else. The sounds of the room disappeared as Bokuto approached Akaashi, considering him briefly for a moment, almost as if he was asking for Akaashi’s permission, before wrapping him into a bone-crushing, soul-warming hug. Those arms wrapped around Akaashi’s being, and all Akaashi could focus on was Bokuto’s voice in his ear, his warmth, his scent; and all he knew in that moment was Bokuto, Bokuto, Bokuto. 

They’d taken a walk through the park later that day, after fending off the hollers and hoots of their cheerful teammates who’d seen this coming a mile away (Akaashi could’ve sworn he saw a grudging Sarukui handing money to a grinning Washio while muttering ‘well that was faster than I expected’, but he didn’t dwell on it then). Bokuto was uncharacteristically silent, his arms firmly by his sides. Before Akaashi could speak up, though, Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s arms, looked into his eyes, and said, “Hey Akaashi, don’t take this the wrong way but I think I like you! As in, more than just as ace and setter or as friends.”

Bokuto’d said it with a wide grin on his face, confidence blossoming in his voice. Inwardly, Akaashi flushed, but outwardly, he grimaced and said, “Took you long enough, Bokuto-san”. Bokuto made an indignant sound, declaring that “I thought about a lot of ways to confess to you! I wrote love poems but Kuroo said you’d throw them in my face if I showed them to you, so I tried to write down some speeches but then Kuroo laughed in my face when I–”

Before he could finish rambling - there’d be no end - Akaashi cut him off by kissing him lightly on the cheek. Bokuto flushed bright red (Akaashi himself was slightly pink, although he’d never admit it), looking, for all intents and purposes, as if he housed the sun itself within him. He laughed and pulled Akaashi into him, and Akaashi knew from then that he’d be tied to Bokuto’s orbit with conceivably no way out. And he was fine with that. 

As Akaashi recalls all of this, a fond smile working its way onto his face against his own irritation, he also remembers that they’d had no time to go on an actual “date”. Between volleyball practice, homework, and exams, all they’d manage to do was kiss in the locker room after everyone left (”Bokuto-san, please don’t manhandle me in front of our teammates”), cuddle in bed and fall asleep after a study session (”Bokuto-san, I won’t kiss you if you don’t finish your work”), and sometimes walk in the park. They’ve never kissed over a bowl of pasta, they’ve never clutched each other after watching a scary movie in the theater, they’ve never held hands while ice-skating, and they’ve certainly never gone on double dates with Kuroo and Tsukishima (”Akaashi-san, Bokuto-san, we’re not dating so please stop saying so”). This is also why Akaashi will let Bokuto have his fun, because he too is looking forward to finally engaging in proper romantic activities with his boyfriend. It feels weird to think of Bokuto in that way, but Akaashi realizes that they’ve been joint at the hip for a while now, circling each other like the moon and the sun. 

Akaashi is brought out of his stupor when his phone rings. He picks it up and is immediately blasted with Bokuto’s loud voice. 

“Akaashi! You can, uh, come home now! I’m done setting up,” he says, but there’s a note of confusion in his voice. Akaashi hopes that he doesn’t hear a crash in the background. 

“Bokuto-san, is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, for sure! I told ya not to worry about a thing, right? You think too much with that pretty head of yours.” 

Akaashi flushes at the compliment but bluntly says, “I thought I was supposed to be home two hours ago, but alright. I’m on my way now.” He hangs up, gathering his things and departing for Bokuto’s home. Bokuto’s parents are out, apparently taking a trip to Kyoto of all places, so it’s perfect timing. Akaashi doesn’t rush home but he does walk a little fast, something instinctual telling him that Bokuto screwed up somewhere along the line. 

When he gets to Bokuto’s door it’s slightly ajar so Akaashi lets himself in. Before he says “I’m home,” though, he surveys the area while he takes off his shoes. It is, to put it mildly, a disaster, although Akaashi supposes it’s a victory if Bokuto manages not to set something on fire or get complaints from neighbors. He sighs and rubs his forehead. 

“Akaashi! Hey! Uh, happy one-month anniversary!” Bokuto says, coming up to Akaashi and swooping him into a hug. Akaashi allows himself to melt into Bokuto’s chest even though he knows he should be cataloguing the mess in the kitchen and on the tables. Bokuto nuzzles into him happily, as if he’s forgotten the chaos behind him, and Akaashi sighs, partly exasperated, partly contented. They stay like that for a minute before Akaashi wills himself to remove his head from Bokuto’s chest. He remains in Bokuto’s arms as he gazes up at him, liquid golden meeting hazy silver. 

“Bokuto-san, can you please tell me what happened?” 

Bokuto scratches the back of his head sheepishly, laughing nervously before launching into an explanation. “Okay, so I didn’t know what to do for our first date because I know you don’t like cheesy things and I didn’t want to disappoint you! So I asked Kuroo for help but he said he couldn’t come since he’s helping Tsukishima study today. I decided to make you dinner. We could have a nice, candle-lit, romantic meal, like in the movies!” 

Well, that explains the candles scattered on the floor and the remnants of what looks like burnt chicken and overcooked pasta in the pots. Akaashi mentally shakes his head, but he can’t help the grin rising on his face. Bokuto had gone this far just for him. 

Akaashi looks at him again. “Why did you attempt to cook, though? You and I both know that cooking isn’t one of your strong suits, Bokuto-san. Did you even follow a recipe?” 

Bokuto grimaces. “Well I looked up a couple online but then I thought that I could figure it out! I’m the ace, after all - if I can’t cook for my boyfriend then how can I call myself the best in Japan?” 

Akaashi knows that these are the signs of Bokuto’s infamous Sulks coming on. He won’t let his boyfriend’s moodiness make his effort or the time he spent away from him go to waste. “How about we just clean up the mess before your parents come back and order take out?” 

Bokuto frowns but nods in assent. “Gah, this wasn’t how I’d planned our first date! I’m sorry, Akaashi,” he says, bowing his head in frustration. 

Akaashi keeps himself from laughing at how utterly adorable his captain looks, humbled for once. He kisses Bokuto on the cheek, once again wrapping his arms around him. “It’s okay, Bokuto-san. We don’t need flowers or candles to make our anniversary romantic. As long as it’s just the two of us, then that’s all we need.” Hasn’t that always been the case? 

Bokuto looks at him in shock, turning bright red, before he whoops and hollers with glee. And Akaashi can’t have ever asked for more than this, the childish and clumsy way Bokuto expresses affection, the way he doesn’t hold himself back, not for the world or anyone else. He is blessed and loved and he knows so. He knows that this is it, that he can’t go back from here. 

Nor does he ever want to. 


	4. Takagin - Love tastes like blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is slightly inspired by the last scene of episode 3.13 of NBC’s Hannibal, The Wrath of the Lamb. Listen to Love Crime by Siouxsie Sioux while reading this if you’d like! This is some weird AU that I just thought of, lol.

Gintoki plunges the end of his sword into Takasugi’s beating, waiting heart. He’s discarded his bokuto already, the same way he’s turned off his emotional mechanisms. He is operating on fight or flight instinct right now, adrenaline pumping through his blood and elongating his muscles. He moves with the grace of a hunter, all smooth limbs and graceful stances. 

_He has forgotten that Takasugi’s name thrums underneath his skin like a mantra, a prayer he whispers into the night when no one else is around him._

Takasugi coughs, blood spurting out of what feels like every orifice on his aching body. He grabs Gintoki, struggling to hold on to the last vestiges of his breath as his consciousness fades for one last time. Colors swirl and dance in his eyes. His heart yearns for the man who will kill him. 

_He has forgotten that he betrayed said man a million times over. Love is not enough. Love has never been enough._

Unbidden, tears spill out onto Takasugi’s face, rushing like the rivers near the shore he and Gintoki had met, frolicked, kissed, made love for the first time, Gintoki gently laying Takasugi onto the soft grass that tickled his arched back, his lips parting, his gasps intermingling with Gintoki’s name. Over, and over, and over again. 

Gintoki pushes the sword in more, wrenching it out with hardened anger that colors his eyes a monochromatic steel. Takasugi has only seen that look on Gintoki’s face once before, when he confronted the people who took Shouyou away from them. If he could shudder, he would, but he can hardly stand upright now. He is held up by Gintoki, who clutches him, hugging him closer, one hand tugging at his hair and smoothing it back. 

“I just thought I really loved you,” Gintoki bites out, his hand still pulling and stroking Takasugi’s hair. His other hand strokes Takasugi’s body, passing over the blood that oozes like rain. He cannot tell the difference between the blood on Gintoki’s body or his body. 

Takasugi chokes on his own blood, barely managing to respond. “You did. You do.” He desperately holds on to Gintoki, gazing up at him. He wants the last thing he sees before he is plunged into darkness to be Gintoki. 

Gintoki’s eyes soften a little, his breath coming out in labored pants. Takasugi’s head has fallen onto his chest. “I do. I do. I do, and it is the death of you, and it will be the death of me. Oh god, Shinsuke, I do love you.” 

Takasugi is content to know that those are the last words he will ever hear. They cannot fight the push and pull forces of lust and love that break them apart and keep them together, much like they cannot resist the inevitability of betrayal, of hatred, of pain, of the simple fact that they are not meant to be together in this life. 

For Takasugi, that’s all. That’s okay. Gintoki is everything to him. He stills in Gintoki’s arms, eyes closing, heart stopping, breath stuttering to a final halt. And Gintoki falls with him, crashing to the ground with an impact that can be felt miles away. No one except the moon is there to see Gintoki sobbing on Takasugi’s corpse, and no one but the moon documents Gintoki’s screams of anguish, of broken, lost love that will never come back, of chances he will never get again. 

And he will never be able to kiss Takasugi’s bruises again. 

_He has forgotten that they can only be united as one entity in death._


	5. Allydia - I'll Be Your Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate reaction to Boyd and Erica's deaths in season 3A.

Allison bangs the door open fiercely, throwing her bow and arrows to the side with a _thud._ She sits on the bed and stares at the wall, her fists clenched at her sides, her jaw trembling with rage. 

Lydia follows her in slowly. She knows that Allison’s anger is directed entirely at herself, but it still hurts to see her like this. Normally, Allison is calm and composed, whether she’s aiming her arrow at an opponent or reading heavy Latin texts with Lydia late into the night. 

Lydia sighs and sits down next to Allison on her bed. Allison is stock-still, as if she is frozen by a supernatural force in the air (but they’re in Beacon Hills, so anything could be happening at this point, truly). She tugs Allison’s hands out of their balled, rigid state and smooths them out, laying Allison’s hands in her lap and turning her so that they can look each other in the eye. 

“Allison.” 

Allison refuses to look at Lydia for a few seconds, biting her lip raw. 

“Allison. Baby. Please talk to me,” Lydia pleads after a while, hating that her voice is cracking and trembling. She shouldn’t be the one crying in this situation. 

Allison finally relents and looks at Lydia, tugging her closer and pulling her into her lap. Her arms wrap around Lydia’s waist and her hands massage Lydia’s back. Lydia knows that Allison is doing this to comfort herself more than anything else and is warmed by the gesture. 

“I’m sorry, Lyds. I just feel a little useless is all.” 

Lydia frowns but doesn’t pull back from Allison’s embrace. “How could you say something like that, Allison? You saved our lives today. You saved _my_ life today. That’s more than anything we could ask for.” 

A heart beat passes. Then, Lydia feels tears dampening her shoulder, Allison’s shudders and quiet, almost inaudible sobs making her own body shiver. 

“I just don’t know what to do anymore, Lydia. I couldn’t save everyone. I couldn’t save Erica. Or Boyd. I couldn’t help them when they needed it.” 

And finally, the dam in Allison breaks, and she is heaving with the weight of the world, with the burden they all shoulder. The fire that rages in her has transformed into a melancholic, thunderous ocean, and she is helpless against the pain. 

Lydia is silent as she rocks Allison back and forth. She knows that no one else can see them like this; Allison, torn apart, Lydia, a solid rock of strength. This is not a sight for anyone else to interfere with. It is their corner of the world, invisible and inaccessible to everyone else except them. 

Allison continues, pouring out her regrets like the clouds release rain on a moonless night. “I’m scared, Lydia. I’m scared of what’s coming next. I’m scared of losing Scott, the pack, my dad. Of losing you most.” 

She quietens then slightly. Lydia stills her hands, placing them on both sides of Allison’s face and looking her square in the eye once again. It is a testament to their bond that Allison does not look surprised or flinch back. 

“In case you’ve forgotten who you are, I’ll be here to remind you. When you’re feeling afraid, I’ll be here to help you. When you’re injured and almost dying, I’ll be here to save you. I’ll be your strength when you feel weak, your courage when you feel scared, your path when you feel lost.” 

Allison gives a watery smile to Lydia, but before she can kiss her, Lydia continues. “You’re Allison Argent. You swore to to protect those who can’t protect themselves. You promised me and everyone else that you’d do everything you can to help the weak and the innocent. So please, promise me this, Allison: when you think you’re useless or when you think you can’t help anyone, let me be the one to save you, the one to love you even when you can’t love yourself.” 

Allison is shaking with the intensity of her words, with the ebb and flow and ferocity of love within her. She feels a surge of affection for her beloved, and silently tells herself that she’ll protect Lydia always, even when her misplaced fears place her in the most dangerous situations. 

She gently knocks her head against Lydia’s. “I promise,” she whispers, kissing each finger on Lydia’s hand. Lydia melts against her and they collapse, coiled as one into the late hours of the night. 

And they smile because they know they’ll be okay. 


	6. Love at First Sight - Erikira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt on tumblr: “someone write me erica/kira about kira’s first day at beacon hills high and the crush she gets on erica reyes, the popular, intimidating but surprisingly friendly blonde she sits behind in one of her ap classes”. This takes place in a canon-divergent universe in which Boyd, Erica, Allison, and the rest are still alive. The context is 3b when Kira first arrives in Beacon Hills.

Kira shut the car door and followed her father, professor-turned-high-school-teacher Ken Yukimura, as he led the way to the entrance of Beacon Hills High School. She turned to wave at her mother, Noshiko, who was watching her silently, her piercing gaze speaking volumes. Kira knew that her mother was telling her, in no uncertain terms, to remain strong and keep her head high. 

Kira smiled at her mother, who nodded in return and drove away. Her father laughed gently next to her as she watched the car get farther away from her. 

“Come on Kira, look alive! Aren’t you excited for your first day here?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with his usual warmth and mirth. Kira was immensely thankful that her father was teaching here. She knew he’d probably embarrass her, but it was better than walking into the lion’s den without anyone familiar by her side. 

“Maybe you are, dad, but I don’t know anyone here. They’ll all probably be freaked out by me anyway,” she grumbled, looking down at her feet. She chose to wear cute but simple flats that day, but belatedly wondered if her quirky skirt and plaid shirt combo would earn her weird looks or mocking jeers. Didn’t Californians always wear board shirts and flip-flops or something? 

Ken laughed. “Oh sweetie, you’ll be fine! The people here are really nice, and I guarantee that they’ll love you. You’re my daughter, after all, and if no one can appreciate how smart or kind you are, then they aren’t worth your attention,” he said lovingly, pressing her hand against his back and guiding her toward the door. Kira smiled and bumped her head against her fathers. She steeled herself and opened the doors, walking into the empty halls. The students were already in class. 

“Let’s take you to the principal’s office first, and then I’ll drop you off at your first class. What do you have next?” They knew that it would take around an hour for both Ken and Kira to get settled into the new school environment, so by the time they’d finished with paperwork and introductions, the next period would begin. 

Kira took out her crumpled, folded over schedule and glanced at it. “AP chemistry,” she responded, putting her schedule away. She’d commit it to memory later. 

Ken grinned. “To chemistry it is.” 

~.~

After surviving the hour Kira had to spend smiling at the principal and listening to him drone on about “…the welcoming environment here at Beacon Hills,” she was finally standing at the front of her new class. She swallowed the lump of nervousness rising in her throat, but she couldn’t stop her palms from breaking out in sweat or her heart pounding out of her chest. She took a breath.

The chemistry teacher didn’t do anything to help. He looked like an irritable, pretentious man, as if he’d rather be drinking away his sorrows at a bar. He’d hardly spared a glance at Kira when she walked in, stuttering over her greeting. 

As the students filtered in, some of them looked at Kira with curiosity while others walked right past her and filed into their laboratory stations with reluctance. After four minutes, the bell rang, alarming Kira into standing at attention. Some of the students snickered at her reaction. She blushed and looked down, twiddling her feet and wringing her hands. _Relax_ , she thought to herself. 

Her teacher got up. “Well, if any of you bothered to pay attention to anything but yourselves today, you’d notice that we have a new student. If you’d like to give a brief introduction, you can, but hurry it up because I have to explain today’s lab,” he said irritably. Internally, Kira’s stomach tightened with humiliation. 

“Um, hi! I’m Kira Yukimura and I’m from Manhattan, New York. It’s nice to meet all of you,” she said, injecting her voice with as much confidence and friendliness as she could muster. She smiled at the students before her, who either blinked blearily back at her, waved at her sarcastically, nodded at her, or genuinely smiled at her. The students who legitimately smiled at her were all sitting near each other, and Kira could tell that they were all friends. They were chatting with each other animatedly, writing down notes and waving their hands around. Their eyes were alive and vivid, and Kira noticed the love flowing between them, like a current thrumming in her veins. A flash of want curled through Kira. They looked like friendly people, but Kira doubted herself, wondering if she could even penetrate that tight knit family. She looked away before jealousy and desire could overcome her. 

Her teacher nodded lazily. “Well, if that’s all, then Kira you can take a seat and station #5. Your lab partner isn’t here yet but rest assured you will be completing the lab just like everyone else.” 

Kira nodded - she’d expected as much - and went to her station, dropping her backpack on the floor and preparing her materials. Her station was near the eclectic group of friends she’d seen while at the front of the room. When she looked up at them, she noticed that the handsome, tan one, who was probably the leader of the group, was smiling warmly at her. She blinked in surprise, turned slightly pink, and smiled back. 

Their teacher began explaining the lab. “It’s a simple titration lab. The instructions are written out for you in your lab notebook. Keep the data clean and consistent, and for god’s sake, Stilinski, don’t use the 2 M hydrochloric acid again or you’ll be staying behind and cleaning the entire lab room for me,” he snapped, glaring at said Stilinski, the pale, jittery boy next to the handsome leader who smiled at Kira. Stilinski saluted mockingly, his hands roaming all over the place. Kira laughed inwardly. He also seemed like a funny boy. 

Before he could continue, however, the door burst open. Kira looked up and then wished she hadn’t. A beautiful blonde girl, her curls falling over her back like a twisting river of sunlight, sauntered into the room, a simple tote bag slung over the shoulder of her leather jacket, her heels _click-clacking_ on the linoleum floor. She grinned at the teacher, the sexy crimson of her lips curling into a smirk, the whiteness of her teeth stark against her tanned skin. “Sorry I’m late, Mr. A,” she said, not sounding sorry at all as she swayed over to station #5, putting her bag on the table and throwing Kira’s poor heart into rampant ecstasy. 

“Erica. Nice of you to grace us with your presence. This is, shall we say, your tenth late arrival?” the teacher said apathetically. Erica grinned but didn’t dignify his question with a reply. Instead, she waved at her friends, and they cheerfully waved back, gleefully mocking her for being tardy as usual. Kira swallowed and looked down at her lab notebook, fiddling with the corner of the instructions page. She had been stunned into silence. 

After the teacher finished explaining the lab and set them free to begin working, Erica finally turned to look at Kira. She looked her slowly up and down, her mouth once again curling into that fluid-as-molasses, lazy smile that sent Kira’s heart into a frenzy. “Hey babe. I’m Erica. Nice to meet you,” she said with a wink. 

Kira flushed and stuttered back, “I’m Kira. I’m looking forward to working with you.” She winced at the excitement in her voice, thinking that if she came on to strong then this lightning-beautiful, terrifying goddess would rip her apart and spit out the remains like a lioness disposing of her prey. 

Instead, Erica smiled at her, softly and sincerely this time, and took her hand, shaking it up and down. Kira flinched at the electricity she felt thrumming through her fingertips, all the way to the top of her arms, but grinned back at her, appreciating the friendliness while trying to control her inner squeals. “You look like I’m gonna eat you or something. Relax. I’ll make sure this boring-as-fuck lab is actually fun for you, and then I’ll introduce you to my friends. They’re the dorks in the back,” she said with fondness. Kira glanced at them, noticing that they were all smiling and laughing with her (not at her, surprisingly). Erica flipped them off affectionately (how she wasn’t caught by the teacher is something Kira would never figure out). 

“Thanks,” Kira said, looking into Erica’s golden eyes, framed by perfectly shaped coal lashes. Erica wrapped her arm around Kira and declared that they’d be the best lab partners in the class, to which a beautiful redhead in the back replied, “not if Ally and I can help it, loser!”. Erica laughed and told Kira to ignore the “dweeb” that were her friends. 

Kira could feel warmth settling at the bottom of her stomach, unwinding the tension in her chest and making her bones liquid. And it was then that she knew she was utterly, utterly fucked. 

Somehow, when Erica’s fingers knocked against hers, twin smiles alight on their faces, she wasn’t too worried about it. 


	7. Electricity - Malira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone on tumblr suggested Malia kissing Kira to calm her down. This takes place in the electric room scene in 5x15.

The clock is ticking quickly, as if time is deliberately working against everyone. Somewhere else in the building, in the dark corners of the closed ward, Stiles, Scott, and Liam are running to get to Lydia. Meanwhile, Malia and Kira must fester in the electrical room, amongst the damp, off-colored walls and depressingly disorganized shelves. 

Malia has been pacing back and forth, chewing on her bottom lip as she struggles to think of a way to help Kira. Kira hasn’t been able to amplify and channel her powers to cause the brownout yet; Malia knows, instinctively, that this is because Kira is nervous. She knows that Kira doesn’t want to fail, and she knows that Kira will blame herself entirely if the mission goes awry. (Malia later contends that it was a dangerous mission to begin with, predicated on idiotic and half-baked claims, but she’s starting to notice that the pack’s speciality is to go in guns blazing even if they don’t actually have all the information or help they need). 

With a minute left on the clock, Malia resorts to desperate measures. Sometimes, Kira needs verbal reassurances; in other instances, physical affection speaks volumes. In this case, Malia knows both are necessary to keep her calm and focused. 

“Kira,” she begins, taking her face in her hands as gently as she can to make her relax. Distantly, Malia notes that Kira’s heart rate is through the roof. “You need to calm down.” 

Kira looks down in panic before meeting Malia’s eyes again. “If I can’t do this then we can’t save Lydia,” she says in a rushed manner, cheeks tinting red in frustration. “If Lydia dies then it’s on me.” 

A flash of anger curls through Malia’s chest but she tamps it down. She knows that aggressively telling Kira not to take the entire burden on her shoulders is futile. It is in Kira’s selfless, self-deprecating nature to simultaneously desire to save everyone by herself and place the onus of failed plans on herself as well. Malia finds this both endearing and tiresome, but right now they’re running out of time. 

Thirty seconds left. Before Kira can continue babbling, Malia presses her lips against Kira’s. Kira squeaks against her before melting into the kiss and closing her eyes slowly. Malia massages the sides of Kira’s face, noting that Kira’s heart rate has thankfully gone down. Although it feels like she’s been kissing Kira for centuries (frankly, they always get so lost in kissing that it feels that way for the two of them constantly), Malia knows that in reality they have twenty seconds left. She pulls away from Kira, inwardly smiling at the awestruck expression on Kira’s face. It morphs into a look of muted worry again, though. 

Malia sighs. “This isn’t about you, or me. It’s about Lydia. We’re here to save Lydia. We’re here to save our friend,” she says forcefully, with iron in her eyes. Kira nods, cheeks still flushed pink from her own irritation and from Malia’s kiss. Malia lets go of Kira’s face, knowing that this time, Kira will be able to save them all. 

Kira faces the grid, places her hands on the wires, and lets electricity roll from the tips of her fingers to the wires. And Malia is once again entranced by the thunderous display of power and beauty melding together whenever Kira works her magic. She feels warmth spreading through her as the lights flicker and electricity whirls in the air around her. Malia wants to pick Kira up and swing her around in glee, but she’ll save that for when they leave Eichen House, Lydia safely in tow. For now, she looks on with ecstasy as her girlfriend keeps her hands steady and her gaze hardened and focused. 

Later, Scott will howl. Malia and Kira will hear the roar that is their pack’s unifying cry, and they’ll know that they’ve succeeded. 


	8. Relieved Declarations of Love - Erilydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica/Lydia + "Wait what, did you just say you love me?"; takes place in 5x16, in a universe in which all members of the McCall Pack are alive.

Erica is pacing back and forth, chewing on her nails and glancing at the gates of Eichen House before turning to glare at Stiles. He wilts under her gaze. 

“Look, how was I supposed to know that the guards would show up at the last minute? I said it was perfect on _paper_ , okay, not in reality.” 

Boyd walks up to Erica and puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. She fixes him with an irritable stare but stops pacing momentarily, sighing and pushing her hair back. “Stilinski, I really don’t care about your agonizing right now. Just shut up and let us keep watch.” 

Stiles gestures to his lips as if he’s zipping them shut before he goes to sit in the jeep, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He ignores Isaac laughing at him from around the back of the jeep. 

Erica knows that Lydia’ll return safely. Allison is doing everything they can to get her out, aiming her precise arrows at the guards to protect Lydia from them. But she can’t help the gnawing worry growing in her stomach. She has an eerie feeling, knowing that Kira’ll get heavily injured from causing the brownout, and that Scott and Liam will have a difficult time fending off the guards and getting to Lydia. This is why she’d insisted that she, Boyd, and Isaac should have joined them, but Stiles needed them to guard the perimeter of the institution. Her claws sharpened reflexively. 

Just as she’s about to storm inside, Stiles’ shitty plan be damned, she sees Scott and Liam running ahead to open the gate. She steps aside to let them through. Finally, _finally_ , she sees Lydia, being supported by Allison, coming out of Eichen House. She’s stumbling on her feet and looks sallow and worn out, and there’s still some blood on the side of her head from when Valack lobotomized her. But she’s finally out of his clutches (and back in Erica’s arms). 

Allison sags against Lydia, tired from running around the entire time. “Lydia’s screams are so powerful that they literally blew off Valack’s head,” Allison explained proudly, glancing at Lydia with fondness in her eyes. 

Erica looks at Lydia in astonishment. Honestly, at this point she isn’t that surprised either, but to hear about the depth of Lydia’s powers reaching this far makes Erica feel exhilarated. After everything she’s been through, she’s pleased that Lydia is finally becoming more attuned to her banshee senses. 

The rest of the pack just stares, open-mouthed, at Lydia, who’s currently swaying on her feet. Before she can fall, Erica rushes and catches her, cuddling her against her chest. “I love you so much,” Erica whispers against Lydia’s neck, thinking that Lydia’s too out of it to hear her. 

Apparently, though, her damned brilliant strawberry blonde girlfriend, even after being tortured and almost killed, is still lucid enough to notice everything. “Wait, did you just say you love me?” Lydia mumbled, opening her eyes just slightly enough to smile at Erica. 

Erica blushed. She’d punch Stiles for laughing at her later. Ignoring the coos of everyone else around them, she kisses Lydia’s cheek, smooths her hair over, and adjusts to carry her in her arms back to the jeep. “Oh shut up and go to sleep, Lyds,” Erica grumbles, burying her face in Lydia’s neck again. 

And all is well.


	9. Malydira - "You aren't unwanted or unloved"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurt/comfort fic post 5x20. Spoilers for season 5.

After everything, the air in Beacon Hills stilled. It kept still for about a week, and during that time, the members of the McCall pack rearranged themselves, healing their wounds and wrapping braces around their battle scars. It was the umpteenth time they’d done this, so they were used to it by now. 

After Malia absorbed her mother’s powers, she felt a new thrum of energy pooling in her belly and spreading through her veins. Despite that, though, she felt sick, constantly on the edge of crying or tearing her hair out. Of course, her pride wouldn’t let her reveal this to the rest of the pack. Thus far, all she allowed them to do was patch up her physical wounds, from her mother shooting her worn body three times. 

Her mother’s words kept thrumming in her head. You’re a parasite. You’re unwanted. You stole my powers. And, unbidden, they began embedding themselves into her mind, curling like venomous snakes and twisting around the tendrils of hope she’d had left within her. Hadn’t she truly ruined everything? If she wasn’t born, her mother wouldn’t have been so angry or bitter. If she wasn’t born, her adoptive mother and sister wouldn’t have died, and her adoptive father wouldn’t have sunk into an eight-year period of deterioration and mania. If Scott, Stiles, and his pack hadn’t saved her, then she never would’ve caused trouble for them, with the blunt edge to her words, the lack of grace in her social skills, the effort it took to socialize her into human society and educate her properly. If she hadn’t been born, she began to think, life would’ve been easier for everyone around her.

Perhaps her mother was right. She was a leech, sucking the energy out of the people who loved her most (but did they truly love her? or did they feel sorry for her, the poor parasite, brought into this world against her will?) and she’d acted so remorselessly beforehand, all bravado and confidence, claws sharp and eyes sharper. 

At first, the pack didn’t notice the signs of her hysteria. They didn’t see her digging her claws into her fists until blood dripped to the floor. They didn’t see her teeth sinking into her lips, or the effort it took for her not to fall onto the floor and sob her heart out. She wasn’t the type to cry and she certainly wouldn’t change that perception now, not when Lydia’s throat was healing, not when Mason was recovering, not when her pack members were still figuring things out. There was too much at stake for her to indulge in selfishness and ask for help. So she swallowed her pain and helped out once her wounds healed She helped Dr. Deaton dress everyone else’s wounds. She helped Melissa repair what’s broken in her house (something else that hits her in the chest - it’s her fault Stiles was in danger, her fault Scott’s house got damaged, her fault Braeden got shot). Malia hoped that she could prove her usefulness to the pack this way. She wasn’t a parasite; she wasn’t a leech; she’s wasn’t unwanted. But that broken mantra contrasted heavily against what she actually thought of herself.

It came to a head in the middle of the week, when she was pacing in her room in her father’s house. He’d been concerned for her when she came home with blood still on her hands, but she’d reassured him that everything was fine, she was fine, nothing was wrong and she was going to keep to herself for the week. She hated lying to him (it made her feel more worthless) but above all, as she told The Desert Wolf, she’d wanted her family back. And Malia wouldn’t risk that for anything. Her father had given up everything for her, a legacy of love that she would die to protect. 

After helping out the pack as much as she could, Scott had insisted that she take a break, to go stay with her father and sleep. Stiles had agreed with him, quite literally pushing her out the door until she left. But she’d wanted to stay with Lydia until her throat fully recovered, and she’d wanted to spend as much time as possible with Kira before she took off to train with the Skinwalkers. Something in her forced her to stay away from her girlfriends, though, a dark, ominous cloud of self-hatred that made bile rise in her throat. 

Malia had ignored Lydia and Kira’s texts all week. At first, their texts were normal, simple “how are yous” and “do you want to study together” and “let’s go on that pizza date we wanted to a couple months ago”. But they quickly devolved into “why aren’t you replying” and “is everything okay” and “talk to me please, Malia”. After the 20th missed call from Lydia and the 35th missed call from Kira, she turned her phone off and cried herself to sleep, the tears etching themselves onto her pillowcase by morning. 

She smelled them before she heard them come up the stairs. Their scents were distinct, imprinted onto her memory like the love in her heart. Lydia’s scent was sharp, spicy and heady, while Kira’s scent was warm and reminded Malia of spring. She could tell that Lydia was angry and Kira was hurt. She stopped pacing to open the door to her room and saw her girlfriends marching up the stairs to her room, her father below on the first floor scratching his head in confusion. 

“Uh, Malia, it looks like your friends want to talk to you about school, so I let them in,” he said, before turning to go back to his work. Malia internally sighed. There was no way her father could begin to understand why her girlfriends were angry. 

Before Malia could greet them, Lydia grabbed her hand and Kira’s and strode into the room forcefully before shutting the door. Kira sat Malia down on her bed, her eyes already shining with unshed tears, her face flushed pink with emotion, before sitting down in front of her. Lydia sat behind Malia, wrapping her arms around Malia’s waist and burying her head into the soft curls at her neck. She breathed them both in. They sat there for a while, reveling in the silence, the sun filtering through the curtains on Malia’s windows and bathing them in the soft morning glow. Malia’s heart rate evened out and her hands had stopped trembling.

Finally, Lydia was the one to break the serenity. “I know you’ve been avoiding us, babe,” she said bluntly, which was her style. Kira nodded next to her, pushing a strand of stray hair away from Malia’s face. “And we know what that woman told you. We know what she said.”

“Braeden told us,” Kira clarified when Malia turned to look at them in shock. Well, Braeden had been there the entire time, so it was no wonder that she knew. Malia shouldn’t have been surprised that Braeden told them. “But don’t worry - she didn’t tell the rest of the pack,” Kira said, knowing that it would’ve been a huge blow to Malia’s pride if she had. 

Malia sighed in relief. “Well the cat’s out of the bag, I guess. It’s not that shocking. She wanted me dead the minute she gave birth to me,” Malia said bitterly without a hint of sadness in her voice. Her apathy scared Kira and irritated Lydia. 

“Can you please drop the tough girl act already? We already know that what she said really hurt you. It would explain why you’ve acted like a grumpy alley cat the entire week and why you wouldn’t answer our calls or texts,” Lydia grumbled, not truly angry but simply concerned. 

Kira flinched at Lydia’s candidness before she said, “What we mean is that we love you, Malia, and that we don’t want you to hide from us.” 

Malia looked away from them but didn’t remove herself from their embrace. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Focus on healing, Lydia. And Kira, you shouldn’t be focusing on me right now. You have better things to think about.” 

Lydia and Kira sighed in unison before they both thwacked Malia on the head. “Ow! What the hell was that for?” she asked, massaging her temple in irritation. 

Lydia turned to the side, still embracing Malia while looking fiercely into her eyes. “I know that what that woman said hurt you, babe. I know that you’re still thinking about it. You’re allowed to cry, Malia. You’re allowed to cry with us.” 

Kira nodded. “Whatever she said isn’t true and you of all people should know that. Neither of us could live without you, Malia. At this point, you and Lydia are part of me. I don’t want you to leave, even if for a moment.” 

That’s when the tears gathered at the edge of Malia’s eyes and finally set themselves free, racing down Malia’s face before dropping to her lap. She let Kira and Lydia take care of the rest. Lydia laid her down the bed and closed the window and curtains while Kira went downstairs to let Malia’s father know that she’s “sick” and will be sleeping for a while. Kira reassured Malia’s father that they’d help his daughter get better in a heartbeat. She came back upstairs and laid down next to Malia. 

Lydia and Kira curled up around Malia’s body, forming a warm protective barrier around her. Lydia pulled the covers up around them. “Sleep now, Malia. Or cry your heart out. You can do anything and be anything around us. We are dating, remember? Even from the first moment all of us confessed to each other, we promised that we could bare our souls. No judgement, only love.” 

Malia did recall that. She’d been crying that night too, after all. 

Kira added on. “No matter what that woman told you, Malia, you have to remember that we love you and want you. We always want you. Even if no one else is there to support you or protect you, even when you feel like you’re being a burden, just know that we’ll always be by your side.” 

Malia cried silently, holding on as tightly as she could to Lydia and Kira’s hands. “I love you both so much,” she whispered before gradually falling asleep to the sounds of Lydia playing with her hair and Kira stroking her side. 

Kira smiled, and Lydia felt the weight of the world come off its chest. Tomorrow, they would take on their new opponents and face them side by side, hand in hand, hearts in sync, claws bared and mouths opened wide, covered in screams. 

For now, they would rest.


End file.
